place. A little after, a second troop, and then a third, came in sight, and made the same replies, and after ward continued their march to Mexico. I saw nothing, however, in these men but ordinary travelers, for there was little in their bearing that betokened them as regular troops, when some distant lights sparkled in the midst of the fog, and I fancied I heard repeated vivas; this was another band advancing. In the centre, and clearly seen by the light of the torches, rode two officers on fiery horses, in the costume of country gentlemen—half military, half civilian. The superior officer had a physiognomy and men which struck me forcibly, and awoke in my mind a feeling of curiosity and vague remembrance. He was a man apparently about forty-five years of age, of a lofty and commanding aspect, and swarthy complexion. A high forehead, which his hat but imperfectly concealed, and a rounded chin, perhaps too large for the perfect regularity of his features, denoted obstinacy and resolution; a nose slightly aquiline, great black eyes full of expression, and flexible lips, stamped him with an air of haughty nobility; his strong black curly hair flowed over his temples, and shaded his high cheek-bones. I remarked, also, that his bridle hand was mutilated.
Don Blas made a gesture of surprise, and, scarcely giving himself time to reply to the countersign which was asked of him, bounded toward the officer on horseback.
"Your excellency ought not to forget that we are within a short distance of Mexico," said he, uncovering respectfully, "and prudence requires that you come no nearer."
"Ah! is it you, Captain Don Blas?" said the cavalier, stopping his horse; "I am very glad to see you
